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Feb. 15th, 2006 01:28 pmAmusing:
From me to Adam:
This is my email address, and a confession: I used to be an intern/
poetry editor for a little press on Vashon Island for my last year in
college and my first year out here. My section has since been folded,
but I kept the email address.
Adam to me:
That is quite a confession. My great-grandfather, the first to settle in Washington, was betrayed by a small Vashon Island-based press. He sunk the age old family fortune into the "assured success" of a student-edited poetry journal. In his suicide note he cast a Quaker curse decreeing that every male child would be doomed to follow his passion. We've been failed house painters ever since.
me to Adam:
What a curious convergence. As it happens, my great-great-grandmother was told by a gypsy that the only way for the family to avenge her first husband's death would be to someday send a member to the edge of the new world, under the guise of a student of words. While the gypsy could not articulate just what the final course of action would need to be--although my ancestor thought there must be some meaning in the word 'internet,' despite the fact that they were not a fishing family--she did say that vengeance could be wreaked on "the man who holds the brush."
For generations, my family has been hopefully offing male hairdressers.
Adam to me:
Hmm, I guess I don't really see the connection. Oh well. As for this evening's plans, I was contacted at an ungodly hour this morning by a man who wants to contract my services and is willing to pay an immense sum for the job, but says it must be done by tonight. I am to await his instructions, to be brought by messenger to the edge of the Chasm of Unmet Fates (somewhere near Ballard) at 7PM. He said to bring my painting supplies, but not to worry about getting my clothes dirty. I was also asked to bring a rope and pulley system, and a trustworthy friend who would "share richly in the reward." I figured, as long as we have plans, you might want to be my extra hand.
We both find ourselves terribly amusing.
From me to Adam:
This is my email address, and a confession: I used to be an intern/
poetry editor for a little press on Vashon Island for my last year in
college and my first year out here. My section has since been folded,
but I kept the email address.
Adam to me:
That is quite a confession. My great-grandfather, the first to settle in Washington, was betrayed by a small Vashon Island-based press. He sunk the age old family fortune into the "assured success" of a student-edited poetry journal. In his suicide note he cast a Quaker curse decreeing that every male child would be doomed to follow his passion. We've been failed house painters ever since.
me to Adam:
What a curious convergence. As it happens, my great-great-grandmother was told by a gypsy that the only way for the family to avenge her first husband's death would be to someday send a member to the edge of the new world, under the guise of a student of words. While the gypsy could not articulate just what the final course of action would need to be--although my ancestor thought there must be some meaning in the word 'internet,' despite the fact that they were not a fishing family--she did say that vengeance could be wreaked on "the man who holds the brush."
For generations, my family has been hopefully offing male hairdressers.
Adam to me:
Hmm, I guess I don't really see the connection. Oh well. As for this evening's plans, I was contacted at an ungodly hour this morning by a man who wants to contract my services and is willing to pay an immense sum for the job, but says it must be done by tonight. I am to await his instructions, to be brought by messenger to the edge of the Chasm of Unmet Fates (somewhere near Ballard) at 7PM. He said to bring my painting supplies, but not to worry about getting my clothes dirty. I was also asked to bring a rope and pulley system, and a trustworthy friend who would "share richly in the reward." I figured, as long as we have plans, you might want to be my extra hand.
We both find ourselves terribly amusing.
